


Retail Therapy

by lawboy



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Child Abuse, Some angst, an actual plot?? in my fanfic??, character study ft. lots of my headcanons, gabriel is totally not based on my mum, using adrien to vent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2019-04-25 21:54:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14387889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lawboy/pseuds/lawboy
Summary: Adrien shops to take his mind off things. One day it just makes it all worse.





	Retail Therapy

**Author's Note:**

> remember that fic i wrote at midnight? well this is from 3am.

“Adrien.”  
From within his blanket cocoon, Adrien groans. Slowly, he sits up, blinking blearily at the woman standing in the doorway. Nathalie herself hardly spares him a glance.  
“Your breakfast is ready.” She says. “Come downstairs. Your father’s waiting for you.”  
He’s never gotten up so quickly.   
Like a child on Christmas, he flies down the stairs, still-bare feet skipping every other step. He pays no mind to the chill of marble tiles, nor to the crisp air biting his skin through thin pajamas. For the first time in a while, Adrien beams and it reaches his eyes.  
(Nathalie has to remind herself, sardonically, that the event which brought him this joy was the chance to merely eat in the same room as his father.)

—

Life is cruel in the way it deals its cards. You open the door expecting love and attention, and instead you get an empty seat and a plate scraped clean.   
_“That meal was made by a gourmet chef,”_ she says, as you pick at some gold-leaf dragonfruit sludge. _“Don’t waste it,”_ she says, but it was wasted the moment he decided you should eat alone again.

—

They say the first rejection hits the hardest. As a rejection connoisseur, Adrien must disagree. ‘Each one,’ he thinks, sobbing into a pillow, ‘is worse than the last.’

Men so proficient in being rejected quickly learn what can be relied on. Money is one of those things. When you have a bank account that never dries up and a wardrobe the size of people’s bedrooms, it’s natural to seek therapy in three-figure price tags.  
The second reliable is a friend as rich as you. Chloe is free, as always, and totally _needs_ a new wardrobe (as always). She knows all the hot stores, and Adrien doesn’t mind being led by the ear because she loves him.  
The third reliable are the fans. _The Poors,_ as Chloe calls them. They hang around stores they couldn’t afford socks in on the hopes of meeting him. Sometimes Adrien buys them something cheaps like diamonds or that shirt that’s totally their colour. Sometimes their obsessive fawning makes him happy.

After shopping, they stop for lunch, because somehow it’s that time already. Chloe knows _this great place, super exclusive_ and Adrien just nods as she explains how _those creepy Poors_ won’t harrass them there. He doesn’t mind the Poors, but he’s long since learnt to always agree if he doesn’t want to lose everyone.  
Their meal seems to fly by. Adrien orders the only thing he’s eaten all month: Greek salad (carbs are the latest root of evil). Chloe picks at her Caesar and eyes the neighbouring diner’s linguine. They talk until Adrien’s done and Chloe’s croutons are too soggy to justify eating. Then, without much fuss, they go.

It’s dipping into the afternoon, and Adrien’s struggling to justify the continued outing. It doesn’t matter if he’s heard of a sale or there’s this coat he _needs_ , Chloe’s feet are sore and she wants to go home.  
“We’ve been out all day, Adrien.” She snaps.   
‘That’s not technically true,’ he think, but doesn’t say. Chloe’s dropped the pet names; she’s close to blowing up on him.  
Instead, he says “Sorry, I’m being selfish. Let’s go home.” and takes her bags. He can play her like a fiddle; in a heartbeat she’s pleased again, pleased enough to kiss his cheek.  
“Another day, okay?”  
He nods, knowing that day isn’t more than 72 hours away.  
“Another day.”

—

Life is cruel in the way it deals its cards. Just when you’ve begun to heal, it strikes another blow.

“Where were you?”  
Adrien’s used to cold, used to detached. But anger; genuine, bitter anger— that’s new.  
His father slams a palm on the wall, beside his ear, and repeats the phrase through gritted teeth. Like it poisons him.  
“I was shopping.” Adrien mumbles, stumbling on the words. How stupid it sounds, how vain and childish, when held in the searing light of his father’s rage.  
“Shopping?” The word is spat like a sin. “You skipped a vital meeting to go _shopping?”_  
Adrien’s heart stops in his chest. His mind reels.  
‘My schedule was clear.’ He thinks, and somehow the words escape his throat.  
Gabriel’s face contorts, teeth bared into an inhuman snarl. His free hand clenches, white-knuckled, before latching onto Adrien’s hair and shaking him violently.  
“Your schedule was clear!” He yells. “Your schedule was clear, was it?”  
He shoves him back. Adrien’s not sure what he’s more stunned by: the physical contact, or his father’s raised voice. Either way, he shakes uncontrollably.  
Gabriel towers over him.  
“We had a meeting with an agent from _Louis Vuitton!”_ His voice fills the room, echoing off the high ceiling and drowning out Adrien’s gasps. “You could’ve had a three-year contract. But _no_ , your little shopping spree was more important!”  
“I’m sorry,” Adrien tries to say, “I was selfish.” He can’t get past the ‘I’m’.  
“Where were you during breakfast? Shopping then too?”  
He shakes his head.  
“No? So you were just lazy then? Lying in bed and wasting my time?”   
Adrien starts to cry, and covers his face with his hands. Father’d always said he was an ugly crier.   
Gabriel looks at him in disgust.  
“Oh, stop it.” He spits. “You think you haven’t made people cry before? You think you don’t frustrate me to tears?”  
Nothing can gain him sympathy now.  
“If you actually cared about anyone but yourself, you would’ve checked your schedule this morning.”  
He had, hadn’t he? When his alarm went off at 6am, the first thing he did was check it. Adrien was sure it had been clear, _No Events;_ that was why, he remembers now, he went back to sleep. Why Nathalie had to wake him up that morning.  
“I updated it during breakfast. I would’ve told you, if you were there.”  
‘That’s not fair.’ Adrien thinks. ‘That’s not fair.’  
Gabriel gives him one last, piercing look, before turning away.  
As he leaves, he says “Go to your room. I don’t want to see you out of it for the rest of the week.”  
The cold is back. Adrien is too numb to move.

**Author's Note:**

> some of gabe’s dialogue was taken directly from my mum so thanks ma for inspiring me and giving me emotional issues that i can channel into a fictional supermodel


End file.
